


Intrusion

by StrictlyNoFrills



Series: Polar Drabbles and Shorts [3]
Category: Roswell - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen, Pre-polar, allusions to canonical child abuse and neglect, tag to s1ep2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrictlyNoFrills/pseuds/StrictlyNoFrills
Summary: Apparently, Liz Parker is making a habit of inserting herself into his life.
Relationships: pre-Michael Guerin/Liz Parker
Series: Polar Drabbles and Shorts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420768
Kudos: 6





	Intrusion

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know if this is the start of something or just an isolated episode tag, but I had a song stuck in my head that always makes me think of Polar (someone wrote a Polar song fic using those lyrics years ago, and the two are now indelibly linked in my mind), and so I felt the need to write about these two. I also got started on the next part of Unshakable Trust because of it, so that’s nice.

There was something inherently wrong about Liz Parker standing in the middle of the trailer park to which Michael had been exiled for the majority of his short existence on this miserable planet. 

She was too clean and too kind and too innocent for the rundown, sand-beaten shelters and the layer of helplessness and apathy which coated the desolate excuse for a community where the only thing anyone could agree upon was that they would all be best served by minding their own business and keeping to themselves.

Michael stared at her and fought down the protective surge of need to usher her out and away, back to her shiny, happy, meticulously maintained world. She was an unnecessary complication in his and his siblings’ lives, and she wasn’t his to protect. And even had that not been the case, the determined light in her eyes, offset only slightly by apprehension over her intrusion into his privacy, combined with the set of her narrow shoulders, told him she would not appreciate his interference in the execution of her mission, whatever that happened to be.

Parker delivered her warning about Tapolsky and then apologized for venturing, uninvited, into his own personal hell.

He responded with studied nonchalance, “It’s where I live,” which was a lie, as this meager survival he had eked out in this place was far too bleak to be considered living, and then he watched her turn and walk away. Her steps were deliberate and her small back perfectly straight, as though she sensed the danger - well, of course she did; she was a smart girl, after all, as evidenced by her suspicions about their new substitute, and she had just met Hank stripped of even the thin veneer of civility he deigned to assume whenever he went out in public and was at least passably sober - but refused to be cowed and allow it to hasten her steps.

The sun beat down too oppressively for Michael to do more than stand and track her progress until she reached the entrance to the park and then wait a few moments to ensure she was gone. Then he shook his head at the bizarre twist of fate which had led to him sparing more than a passing thought to the object of his brother’s obsession, and returned reluctantly to the shade of the trailer he was obliged to share with his foster figure. She was brave enough, he supposed, and he had to respect the healthy skepticism she displayed in the face of the stranger appearing in their midst, but beyond that, he could not see what it was about her which had so captivated his brother.

Hank made a snide inquiry about his “pretty little friend,” and Michael focused on navigating the uncertain waters of their present detente, grateful for an excuse to ignore the nagging feeling that he was lying to himself. He wasn’t, of course. There was nothing to lie about.

A pair of insistent doe eyes stared up at him from a delicate face, perfect in its symmetry, in his memory, and he determinedly shoved the mental image away. 

Even if she hadn’t been the girl Maxwell had dreamed of since the day he first saw her, she was human, and if his time with Hank had taught Michael anything, it was that humans were not for him. He and his siblings did not belong with them, nor should they wish to.

He fixed himself a bowl of the generic cornflakes he had stocked up on the last time he went to the grocery store a few blocks away from the trailer park, regretting how much milk he had used yesterday since the only moisture he had to add to his cereal today was Tabasco, and by the time he finished shaking it out of the bottle, that was gone, too. He resolved to ruminate over where he might scrounge up the funds to replenish his stash when he skipped school again tomorrow, but try as he might, taunting thoughts of Parker still lingered at the back of his mind the same way the strawberry-vanilla scent of her lurked at the back of his enhanced nose.


End file.
